


two cut sunflowers

by killinglola



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Art, F/F, NSFW, Other, Slow Burn, Villaneve, the art au that no one asked for, villaneve au, yeah there might be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:08:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25536349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killinglola/pseuds/killinglola
Summary: Eve Polastri is a happily married art consultant living and working in London. When her best friend recruits her to work on a project for a new client, her whole world seems to turn upside down and inside out.
Relationships: Eve Polastri & Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Kudos: 34





	1. a dream or a nightmare?

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! this is my first fic and i'm trying my best:) i'm not an art consultant nor do i know any so i'm doing as much research as possible, but i'm also gonna take some artistic liberties. sorry if i get stuff wrong! hope u enjoy!

Eve awoke with a start. Her thoughts immediately started to congeal as she sat up in the bed she and her husband Niko shared together, propping herself up with a pillow placed behind her back. 

She had had another dream. 

Eve had been seeing the painting in her dreams for days, which by now has turned into a week. She couldn’t seem to get it out of her head, although she had never actually seen the original with her own eyes. 

_ Eve roamed between the walls of the showroom, flitting from place to place as her eyes roamed each piece with curiosity. She was looking for something in particular, yet she had no idea what it was. She huffed as nothing seemed to strike her with the familiarity she searched for. She was in a rush, hurried, as if something had alerted her fight or flight response, and her body was choosing flight. But not yet. She had to find it.  _

_ Maneuvering herself around the exceptionally large maze of artwork, Eve made it to the back wall where she finally found it. The painting. Two Cut Sunflowers, Vincent van Gogh, 1887. Eve grinned wryly. She was satisfied. Quickly absorbing the work into her brain, her flight response reactivated and she speedily attempted her way back through the maze.  _

_ The showroom was now packed with people, while previously it had been empty. Eve caught flashes of their appearances; a bulky man with salt and peppered hair, staring longingly at a photograph in black and white. A middle aged woman wearing reading glasses, not seeming to pay any mind to the artwork around her. Two young men, giving each other a handshake and going opposite ways. A young blonde woman, sitting on a bench as far as she can from the commotion around her.  _

_ Eve approached the door, opening it forcefully. Her surroundings faded away into nothingness. _

Of course, the image and the dream itself was burned into the back of her eyes. She knew the painting already, as an art consultant and art lover in general, but every time Eve entered the dream she had forgotten its characteristics again and again until her memory was refreshed. 

Eve was being plagued by this dream constantly; she just couldn’t seem to rid her mind of the feeling she got when she saw that painting. It was a different type of euphoria, something you see in the movies or read about in romance novels but never really felt yourself. It felt as if Eve was riding a never ending wave, high on the adrenaline. And how was it possible she felt all of these feelings from a mere dream? Eve had no fucking clue. And frankly, it scared her. 

So, when she woke up, she tried to forget. And that’s exactly what she was doing now. Forgetting. 

Eve swung her legs over the side of the bed, pushing herself to stand and looking back over her shoulder at Niko, still sleeping peacefully. If snoring loudly counted as peacefully. She made her way to the door quietly as not to wake him and went downstairs.

She put the kettle on, starting to prepare a cup of tea for herself. As the kettle sat heating on the stove, Eve’s mind wandered back to her dream.

She asked herself the obvious; who were the people who stuck out in her dream? She had surely never seen any of them before. Not that she knew of, at least, so why had they taken over her mind like an illness?  _ It was just as much a dream as it was a nightmare,  _ Eve decided. 

She poured her tea, moving to sit at the small table on the opposite side of the kitchen’s island. Eve continued to sit in silence for a few moments more before pulling her laptop, which she had left out, from the opposite side of the table. If she was awake, she might as well do some work. 

Eve opened her laptop, navigating to her email inbox. 

She was an art consultant, self employed. She didn’t make a lot of money, but with both her and Niko’s incomes combined, they lived comfortably – and Eve was able to do what made her happy. 

She began to work, responding to a few clients and checking the shipping on some pieces. While this part of the job could be mundane, the real fun was helping the clients reach their collection goals. 

Suddenly, Eve’s cell phone began to ring. She picked it up, quickly peering at the caller ID before accepting the call and holding the device to her ear. 

“Hi Bill.” Bill Pargrave was her best friend and partner-in-crime. In the art game himself, Bill had helped Eve grow her clientele and manage her business. 

“Hello Eve, would you be up to getting lunch today? I might have a new client for you!” Eve pulled up her schedule for the day on her laptop.

“Yeah, that should be fine. Around 12:30? I have a video call at 4:30 I can’t move.” 

“That’s perfect! See you then.” Bill disconnected the line and Eve finished the rest of her tea, closing her laptop and moving upstairs to get dressed. 

By the time Eve made her way back up to their bedroom, Niko was awake. 

“Good morning, darling,” Eve spoke to him.

“Morning,” he responded, perched on his side of the bed. Niko stretched his arms. “Where are you off to?” 

“Lunch with Bill. He’s got a potential new client.” Eve began to shed her pajama pants and sleep shirt and slip on a pair of trousers and a turtleneck. 

“Ah,” Niko mused. “Well have fun then. I’ll be going into school to get some work done.” He stood, moving to kiss Eve on the cheek. “Tell Bill hello for me. Love you,” He made his way to the bathroom and Eve heard him begin to brush his teeth.

“I will. Love you too.” She grabbed her bag, heading back downstairs and slipping her laptop into it. Eve picked up her phone as well, slipping it into the pocket of her trousers. She slipped on some shoes and left the house, locking the door behind her.

She texted Bill to let him know she was on her way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eve got a chicken salad and a bottle of water before finding Bill sitting at a table outside, attempting to open the umbrella attached.

“Need some help?” Eve asked, setting down her food and bag. They hugged quickly before working at the umbrella again, eventually being able to crank it open all the way. 

They sat, both pulling their laptops from their bags and connecting to the cafe’s wifi, as Bill began to give Eve the rundown. 

“So,” he began, “As I said, I’ve got a new client for you. She’s looking for someone to help her add to her already large collection. Quite wealthy by the sound of it. Says she wants to display everything in her house.”

“Must be a big house,” Eve said wryly, taking a sip of her water. Bill chuckled at her response. 

“Must be,” he agreed. “So is that a yes?” Eve saw the pleading look in Bill’s eyes. She sighed.

“Yes,” she said. “I don’t know why you’re basically begging me. You know I love my work.”

“I know that, I just really think you’ll have fun on this one. She seems… well,  _ interesting _ to say the least. Plus, big money buys big money artwork, which gets  _ you _ a big check.” Bill winked.

“Indeed it does.” Eve smiled. “And Niko will definitely be happy about that.” 

Once their lunch date was over, Bill pledged to send over the client details and Eve was on her way back home. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she arrived, Niko was still at school. He worked as a professor, and he loved his job, but was always working. He tended to go to his office at school to do his work, saying he couldn’t focus at home. Eve had no problem with this. She liked the quiet. 

She did like the quiet, that is, until she began to dream of Two Cut Sunflowers, Vincent van Gogh, 1887 for a week straight. When it was quiet, the imagery rushed back into her mind constantly, coursing through her veins like a river. She had absolutely no clue what the painting meant to her. Nor did she care, for that matter… she just wanted to stop thinking about it constantly, to stop dreaming about it all together.

Eve decided only one thing would distract her from it. 

She made her way down the hallway to the room at the end, her office which doubled as a studio. Plopping down in the cushioned chair opposite one of her desks in the right corner of the room, Eve pulled a sketchbook from a drawer. She grabbed her charcoals from another drawer, opening the ziploc bag that housed them and pulling two pieces from it. 

She pulled her dark curls up into a bun before opening the sketchbook and beginning to draw, dragging the charcoal across the page at varying paces. It soothed her. 

Eve loved art. Well, actually, if there was a stronger word to describe how Eve felt about art, it would be that. It consumed her, it was everything her life was meant to be. Pain, suffering, happiness, beauty, even the most mundane human emotions – it could all be expressed through art. 

Originally Eve had wanted to be an artist as a career, but she knew she just wouldn’t pull in enough money to live on, even with Niko as an additional income. So, she became what she thought was the next best thing. She could still create, while being able to enjoy art within her day job as well. 

Now, as Eve swirled charcoal across her page with a delicate hand, she felt at peace. Safe. Comfortable. But of course, all of that would have to change. 

Suddenly, she heard the door open and shut, signifying that Niko was home. 

“Eve? Are you here?” his low voice echoed through the house. 

“Yes, I’m in my office. One second!” Eve closed her sketchbook and put it and the charcoals back into their places within the desk. She rushed out of the room and into the kitchen where Niko was preparing a snack for himself. 

“Did you get a lot done?” Eve asked him. 

“Quite a lot actually.” Niko pulled a cut of meat from the freezer, leaving it to defrost for dinner later, Eve assumed. 

“That’s good.”

“How was lunch? How’s Bill – the baby?”

“Great, they’re both great. Bill said Keiko was good too. I accepted his new client.” Eve sat at the table and pulled her laptop from her bag, which she had left there when she arrived home. 

“Excellent! Who is it?”

“Bill sent over the file. I haven’t looked at it yet.” Eve opened the laptop in front of her and navigated to her inbox, downloading the file from Bill. She opened it and peered at its context.

“Interesting name.” Eve said, furrowing her brows. 

“What is it?” Niko asked, picking up his plate of cheese and crackers and coming to sit opposite Eve at the table.

“Villanelle Astankova.”


	2. the white house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this might seem weird at first but it gets unpacked lmao
> 
> thank u for all the kudos on the last chapter! i didn't expect so much on the very first one <3

She looked at herself through the long tri-fold mirror, sitting cross legged on the dark hardwood floor. It was an expanse, the room, and from another’s perspective it would seem that she was a tiny speck compared to the extravagance of the space. 

She sighed, tightening her silk cornflower blue robe around her waist and tucking a few strands of blonde hair behind her ears. One of her hands moved down to her ear and twisted one of the diamond studs anchored there. 

“I’m heading out,” Kenny called from the doorway. She turned quickly, the sound of his voice startling her from her trance. 

“Okay,” she said, “See you later.” Kenny pressed his lips together, a poor attempt at a smile before turning and disappearing from her sight. 

And then Villanelle Astankova was alone, sitting before the mirror, again getting lost in her own reflection. She took one last glance at herself before getting up and forcing herself to travel downstairs, still in her robe. 

Villanelle descended the tall stone staircase leading down to the foyer of the grandiose home she and Kenny shared together. She made her way to the kitchen, moving to sit on a barstool at the counter. 

Everything in the house was white. It was gorgeous, of course, the house, but yet so plain at the same time. So… boring. And Villanelle hated boring.

Kenny was boring. He was nice, kind,  _ rich _ , but boring. She resented her Uncle Konstantin for forcing her to marry him. For forcing her to marry  _ a man.  _ The truth was, Villanelle really wasn’t interested in men. 

This was something Konstantin couldn’t come to accept, no matter how much Villanelle had tried to make him understand. He was only interested in his own wellbeing really, knowing that as long as Villanelle had money, he would as well, and so she had no choice in the matter.  _ Dickhead,  _ Villanelle thought. 

So, he had forced her to marry a man, and here she was in this big, empty, beautiful,  _ boring _ house. She sighed, putting her head in her hands.  _ So, so boring.  _

It drove her crazy, the boredom. It felt like she had an itch that couldn’t be scratched, no matter what she did. Villanelle just wasn’t satisfied. Granted, it was difficult to satisfy her. 

_ How depressing. _ Villanelle scooted herself out of the barstool, opening one of the many overhead kitchen cabinets to retrieve a glass, filled it to the brim with seltzer water and returned back upstairs to their bed. Her phone buzzed from the nightstand. 

She let out a sharp breath of annoyance, reaching for the phone. It unlocked swiftly with her fingerprint, and Villanelle read the text message from Kenny. 

_ Drinks later with Hugo? _

At least it was something for her to do. Something to get her out of this damn white house where she was losing her  _ god damned  _ mind.

_ Sounds good.  _ She sent the message and got one back shortly.

_ Cool. I’ll be home around 4:30. _

Oh, what to do until then. The agony. 

It’s not like Villanelle wasn’t allowed to work or anything, she just didn’t want to. It was so repetitive. So… well, you know.

She set both her phone and seltzer glass on the nightstand beside her and stood, heading for the walk-in closet she and Kenny shared. And by “shared,” she meant it was mostly hers. One of her nimble fingers flicked the light on and a smile spread across her face in satisfaction. Oh, clothes. Sweet, sweet clothes. 

Clothes were one of the few things Villanelle found NOT boring. And because money wasn’t an issue in this household, she could do a lot with clothes. 

She stepped inside and brushed her fingers along the bottom rack where not even half of her wardrobe was hung. Electricity ran from her fingertips through her entire body as her hands touched the thousands of dollars worth of garments. She felt something for the first time in a couple of days. 

And while Villanelle knew it was kind of a dramatic response to  _ clothes _ of all things, she  _ was _ dramatic. And she loved clothes. Clothes let her express herself – fashion was her art. She was the canvas, and clothes were the paint. 

She ruffled through the never ending expanses of fabric; silk, cotton, linen, wool. She pulled a pair of burnt orange straight legged trousers from the mix, a small noise of pleasure coming from her lips. She continued to dig, her hands grabbing at satin fabric that was a cropped, black spaghetti-strap tank. 

_ I am a genius,  _ Villanelle thought as she pieced the outfit together in her head. She rummaged through her collection of blazers to find the one she pictured: dark grey with the faintest pinstriped pattern, lined with cream colored Italian silk. Villanelle let out a squeal of excitement. She ran back into the bedroom, throwing the articles on the bed before running back into the closet to look for a suitable pair of shoes. 

Opening one of the bins she stored at the back of the closet, Villanelle dug with fervor until she came across beautiful chocolate brown, leather ankle boots with a chunky heel.  _ Yes,  _ she thought, excitement radiating from her body. 

She rushed back out of the closet, finally turning off the light again and shutting the door, dropping the shoes onto the floor beside the bed where the rest of the outfit laid, smoothed with perfectionism. Finally a feeling of satisfaction settled into her brain as Villanelle removed her robe and headed for the shower. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Villanelle was feeling invigorated. After thinking within the hot steam of the shower, she knew she absolutely  _ had _ to do something about this house. She shouldn’t be this excited over going out just to escape the chalky prison. 

Taking in a deep breath, she texted Kenny again.

_ I’m going to get some decorations or something for the house.  _

While this might not seem like a big deal, Villanelle knew Kenny enjoyed the mundane view of his home. Just because she didn’t want to be married to him didn’t mean she didn’t respect him and his wishes. 

Her phone buzzed. 

_ Okay. _

Well, that wasn’t bad at all. 

And why was she so nervous to ask? Well, the two of them didn’t exactly know each other that well. They had only been married for three short months, in which Kenny went in to work almost every day with the exception of Sundays and a few Saturdays here and there. 

Villanelle, on the other hand, wasn’t really one for talking. She had to admit she did enjoy his company. They were friends – well, more like acquaintances – definitely  _ not _ star-crossed lovers, however. 

She enjoyed the movies they watched together, and when they went out together accompanied by friends. But she, well – the both of them really, didn’t mesh. They didn’t melt together (which is what Villanelle expects real love would be like.) But again, Villanelle had no say in the matter. 

She put on a different robe of the same silk as the previous, this time ivory colored, searching for her laptop within the disheveled sheets of the bed. To no avail, Villanelle ran back down the extravagant staircase, huffing from exhaustion by the time she reached the bottom. 

Ugh, she might have to take another shower after all of this exercise. 

She sprinted into the living room, light flooding in from the tall windows. Her laptop sat at the end of the L-shaped couch. She grabbed the device and replaced its spot with herself. 

Briefly Villanelle thought about asking Konstantin where a good place to get home decor was. Then she thought better of it. All conversations with him turned into a lecture Villanelle never wanted nor needed — well, at least she  _ thought  _ she didn’t need. Anyway. 

  
  


Villanelle opened her laptop and began searching the web, but nothing she saw satisfied her (which again was very hard to do in the first place.) She shut the lid of the computer forcefully in frustration and sighed. 

So much for that idea. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The heavy door slammed shut as Kenny stepped through and set down his briefcase a few feet away. He sighed with fatigue, briefly thinking about cancelling the drinks plan. But, he felt like he really needed one today, so he thought better of it. 

Kenny worked as a software designer for a large tech company. He enjoyed his job, but some days were just so incredibly stressful and exhausting that he wanted to curl up in the fetal position and never come out. 

Yes, a bit dramatic. That was one thing he and Villanelle  _ did _ have in common – and obviously there wasn’t very much of that. 

Of course he liked her, but he wasn’t in love with her. He could tell she felt the same, for she didn’t try to hide it as much as she thought she did. 

He was okay with that. It made his mother happy that he had a wife, and when Carolyn was satisfied, everyone could live in peace. Unlike Villanelle.

The truth was, Kenny wasn’t really interested in women. He hadn’t ever expressed that secret to anyone before, thinking it was better kept within him.  _ It’s safer there.  _

“Villanelle?” his voice echoed throughout the house. He paused, awaiting a response that never came. “Helloooo?”

“I’m coming!” Villanelle’s faint Russian voice called from upstairs. Soon enough her heels came clacking down the stairs. 

“You look nice,” Kenny said shyly. 

“Amazing,” corrected the blonde. “I look amazing.” Kenny looked a bit stunned, that kind of response not expected to him. “I mean- thanks.” Oopsie. She didn’t mean to be arrogant.

Villanelle felt like her old self again. Which, mind you, was a good thing.

“Let’s get going then,” Kenny said.

Their driver was waiting outside in the circular driveway for them. They climbed inside the car and got on their way to meet Hugo.

When they arrived at the pub, Hugo was already waiting inside at the bar for them.

“Kenny! Villanelle!” he called out. The pair approached him, Kenny embracing him in that ~man~ way, and Hugo giving Villanelle a big bear hug. 

Hugo was Kenny’s secretary at work, and had been ever since Kenny started there. They went way back. And so when he and Villanelle married, they became close by proxy. Kind of funny how she and Hugo almost seemed closer than her and Kenny were. 

“What do you guys want to drink?” Hugo beckoned the bartender over. 

“Um, I’ll have a scotch, please,” said Kenny.

“Gin and tonic,” Villanelle flashed the bartender a smile in thanks. 

Their drinks were prepared swiftly and set in front of them on black paper napkins. Kenny suggested moving to a table, making it easier for the threesome to talk. 

“So,” Hugo started, “What’s going on?” He sipped his long island iced tea eagerly. 

“Nothing much,” Villanelle responded, intending it to answer for both of them. Kenny smirked. 

“What about you, lad?” Hugo directed at Kenny. 

“Um, about the same. We see each other at work every day, Hugo. If I was having an affair, you’d know about it,” Kenny joked. Hugo laughed along with Villanelle, but his smile quickly disappeared. No one seemed to notice. 

They continued to chatter on, cracking jokes amongst themselves for what seemed like hours. The group were three drinks in each by now. 

“I must say, darling, your outfit is beautiful,” Hugo slurred slightly, gesturing dramatically to Villanelle’s body with his bulky hands. “I would put a painting of you on my wall.”

“Why thank you, sir,” she dramatically gestured back. “I’m actually looking for paintings for our walls at the moment. I’ve decided to decorate.”

“Oh, I know a guy who’s business partners with an art consultant!” Hugo blurted, a little too loudly. “I’ll text him right now!” 

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“No, let me! Pleaseeee, V-”

“Okay, fine. Why the hell are you so excited about it?” Villanelle giggled. “It’s just art.” Hugo straightened his posture, cocking his head. 

“I just so _happen_ to be an art enthusiast,” Hugo responded, waggling his eyebrows. Villanelle giggled again. 

“You guys are fucking lightweights,” Kenny interjected, cracking a goofy smile. Villanelle grinned. 

“I’ll get the next round!” She leapt up in excitement and headed for the bar. Kenny and Hugo were left alone at the table. They sat in silence, giving each other quick, nervous glances until Villanelle got back with their drinks.

“Send me your art dude’s information!” Villanelle urged the curly haired brunette. Hugo whipped out his phone and sent her the details. She quickly glanced at the text when it popped up on her phone.  _ Bill Pargrave, 020-7946-0664.  _ She decided she would call it tomorrow, given her current state. 

Soon enough the bunch had had enough, and Kenny and Villanelle bid Hugo goodbye as they got in the car to go home. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Villanelle stared at the number on her phone’s screen. It was the next morning, early. Maybe 8:30 or so. But Villanelle wouldn’t have known that, seeing as she had just awoken and was eager to call this Bill guy. But, because it  _ was _ so early, she held off. 

Villanelle bit her lip and put down her phone, rolling over and looking at the digital clock that sat on her nightstand, the red light reflecting on her face. 7:43. Well, good thing she didn’t call yet. 

Villanelle turned her back to the clock and shut her eyes, trying to will herself back to sleep once again. 

It didn’t work.

So Villanelle got up, and made herself a steamy cup of coffee and some eggs. Turning on the TV, she awaited a couple of hours to pass before trying to reach Bill Pargrave. 

Finally, after two hours of How I Met Your Mother it was a reasonable hour for her to try him, or at least leave a message. Villanelle unlocked her phone and pressed the number Hugo had sent her. She put it on speaker, holding it near her mouth. 

It rang.

Once.  _ Brrr. _

Twice.  _ Brrr.  _

Three times. 

And then the line clicked, signifying someone picking up on the other end. “Bill Pargrave,” answered a polite male voice.

“Hi, my name is Villanelle Astankova,” Villanelle said, “My friend Hugo recommended me to you, I’m looking to hire an art consultant…”

“Ah! Yes, Hugo’s friend. If I could ask you a few questions, and then I’ll pass the message along to Eve. I’m sure she would love to work for you.” 

“Okay. What do you need to know?”

Bill moved on to asking Villanelle about her tastes, visions, her preexisting collection; if she had one and how she wanted new pieces to work with it, et cetera. She may have stretched the truth and said she already owned a large collection. Villanelle didn’t like to seem like she didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Alright Mrs. Astankova,” Bill began to wrap up the call, “That should be everything. I will call you with her response. Is the number you’re currently calling from okay?”

“Yes, thank you, Bill.” They bid their goodbyes and hung up. 

By late afternoon, Bill was already calling Villanelle back.

“She said yes! If I could have your email for the file, Eve will contact you to get started.” Villanelle read her email address aloud to Bill over the phone, and he bid her a final adieu. 

_ No more white house,  _ Villanelle thought. She would finally be able to breathe again. 

Maybe three hours pass, and Villanelle finally receives an email from the art consultant. She opens it, her eyes automatically skipping down to the signature embedded within the message.

_ Eve Polastri, Independent Art Consultant. _ Villanelle’s mouth subconsciously forms a smirk. “Interesting name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a much longer chapter, i hope y'all like it! see u next week :-)

**Author's Note:**

> so i think i'm gonna update every sunday! i hope you guys like it, i have a lot of ideas for this :) the next chapter should be longer. you can find me on twitter if you want @killinglola, see you guys next week!


End file.
